


A Forgotten Song

by buzzbuzz34



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Music, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzbuzz34/pseuds/buzzbuzz34
Summary: They all have nightmares, but Wilde's often lead to him waking up in the middle of the night and screaming.  Zolf doesn't want to see him hurting anymore, and convinces him that playing some music might help.  With Zolf at his side and a song on his lips, Wilde feels safe for the first time in months.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	A Forgotten Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [edward_keystone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edward_keystone/gifts).



Music didn’t sound in the inn anymore.

Before the war, before the disease, it was full of customers who would celebrate and drink to their successes, even if it was just to survive another day. Music and song would ring out and it was rarely ever quiet or dull. But now, the patrons were gone, replaced by silence, screams, and a bard that couldn’t find the strength to perform. 

Zolf raced from his room when he heard the cry in the night, fire flickering around the glaive he held in hand. He charged toward the sounds of muffled whimpering and pushed into Wilde’s room without knocking. 

He expected to see Wilde injured and bleeding after being attacked by some intruder, some assassin, sent to forestall their efforts in Japan. Instead, he was sat in bed, head in his hands, sobbing to himself. 

Zolf doused the fire and tossed his glaive to the side. “Oscar? Are you…?” It seemed stupid to ask if he was alright when he was screaming and crying, but Zolf didn’t know what else to do. 

When Wilde gave no answer, Zolf simply took a seat beside him on the mattress, sitting close enough that he could provide comfort without smothering. 

“It’s okay, now. You’re safe. It was a nightmare.” Zolf understood. He had them too, flashes of misery and loss mixed with the red-hot scalding of phantom pain that scorched through his legs in the middle of the night…

Still sobbing, Wilde traced his fingers along the scar that lined his face, before his hands fell limp in his lap. 

“I’m sorry to wake you,” he said quietly several minutes later, during which time the tears only barely slowed their deluge. 

“Oscar…”

He wiped his face and sat up straight, as if to act like everything was fine. The firmness in Zolf’s face mixed with the concern in his eyes caused Wilde to slump just the faintest bit. 

“You don’t have to act like everything’s alright all the time,” Zolf continued. “We all need a hand sometimes. Took me long enough to learn that, but… you don’t have to do this alone.”

Wilde’s lip quivered, but he bit down on it and turned to get out of bed. “I should get up. Might as well get some work done.”

Before he could move too far, though, Zolf’s hand shot out and grabbed Wilde’s, holding him in place. 

“No. You still need rest. I may not be able to make the nightmares go away, but I’ll not sit by and watch you run yourself ragged out of stubbornness.”

“You’re one to talk about stubbornness,” Wilde teased meekly, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

“Come back to bed. Try to get back to sleep,” Zolf said, tugging gently on Wilde’s hand. “I can stay here so you won’t be alone when you wake up, if you want.”

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he snapped. “I don’t want to go back there! I’m scared,” he added, his free hand pulling on his hair.

“I know. I’m… sorry.” Zolf paused. “Listen, if you won’t go back to sleep – and I totally get that – at least do something that isn’t work. You _never_ do anything that isn’t work anymore.”

“There’s a lot to be done.”

“Why don’t you play me a song on your lute?”

“Zolf, now isn’t the time for such silliness.”

“It’s not silly. I haven’t heard you sing or play in ages, and you always looked happiest when there was music. Maybe it’ll help.” Before Wilde could protest, Zolf stood up and retrieved the neglected lute from the far side of the room, before crawling back onto the bed and waiting expectantly. 

“This is what I mean about the stubbornness,” Wilde said, the faintest smile at the edge of his exhausted features, while obediently tuning the instrument. “You know my voice will be terrible at this hour of the morning. I haven’t warmed up or anything.”

“Too bad. It’s song time now,” Zolf insisted with a grin. 

“Fine, fine.”

Wilde’s fingers and voice were long out of practice, but he performed all the same, playing a song everyone had heard before the world truly fell apart. To hear one person sing it instead of a bar full of half-drunken revelers was haunting, but beautiful. But all of Wilde’s performances were beautiful, and Zolf was entranced by the flicker of life that floated back into Wilde’s eyes as he played. 

He played a few more songs, then set the lute gently in his lap and nodded. “Thank you,” he said, turning to Zolf, “for looking after me.”

“Somebody has to,” Zolf teased, then he continued, “I know it’s hard. And I know that you feel the whole world is on your shoulders. I get that. I feel that way a lot too. But… don’t forget that you have people who care about you.”

Without meaning to, Wilde let out a tiny scoff. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“ _I_ care about you, you daft moron,” Zolf exclaimed, half laughing. “I want you to be okay. I _need_ you to be okay. I can’t keep the nightmares away, but I can be here for you when you wake up.”

Wilde met Zolf’s gaze and smiled. Then he leaned forward and pressed a soft, slow kiss to Zolf’s cheek, before picking up his lute and setting it down next to the nightstand. 

“Will you stay with me, then? Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Absolutely.” 

They both settled into bed and pulled the covers up, then rolled to face each other. 

“Even if you can’t sleep, you should try to get some rest.”

“I know,” Wilde said. “I think it’ll be easier to do that with you here, and with music on my mind. My two favorite things.”

“What about being an obnoxious arse?” Zolf joked, and Wilde laughed for the first time in days. 

“Let me rephrase that: two of my three favorite things. Being an obnoxious arse is the third.”

“That sounds more like it.”

After a moment, Wilde added, his voice soft, “I mean it though. Thank you. And… I hope it never happens, but I’m always willing to repay the favor, should the nightmares get too much.”

Zolf nodded. “I appreciate it. But, like you said…” He reached out and gently pulled Wilde’s hand into his own, rubbing his thumb across his skin, “I think it’ll be easier to get some rest with you here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Britt, you mentioned Zolf comforting Wilde after a nightmare and I was inspired. I hope you like it!!
> 
> And to everybody, thanks for reading! If you're interested in seeing more of my writing or learning about my original characters, head on over to kellanswritingblog.tumblr.com, or feel free to come chat on my personal, celsidebottom.tumblr.com <3
> 
> Please check out the linked podfic!! It's wonderful and beautiful and they did an amazing job!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Forgotten Song [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28484448) by [KD reads (KDHeart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20reads), [Sarshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarshi/pseuds/Sarshi)




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